


sassafras roots

by cicadasong



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sirius is sad, Underage Smoking, bros being bros, remus is a Good Friend, the stars Know Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 19:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicadasong/pseuds/cicadasong
Summary: 'warding off regrets, wasting your time // smoking cigarettes, wasting your time'---rooftops, reflections, and a conversation.





	sassafras roots

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!! haven't published anything for hp before or published anything on here in Years but here we go!! sirius is sad and gay but he has really great friends so!   
> vague references to child abuse/neglect/etc. be safe kids.  
> also, title and quote in summary are from "sassafras roots" by green day bc that's my designated wolfstar song ok bye

Sirius sits on the rooftop, legs dangling over the edge. If gravity were feeling any more spiteful, he’s sure he would be tugged clean off in the blink of an eye. The twinkling stars above him wink and tease. They know things, those stars. Sirius would know; he’s the brightest in the sky, after all.

He pulls a cigarette packet out from the pocket of the leather jacket his mother loathes, producing a singular cigarette and a lighter. Delicately, the way you would treat a precious newborn child, he sets the cigarette between his teeth, then fumbles with the rickety lighter until it lights. He inhales, exhales into the night sky. The smoke mixes and mingles with the planets and the stars, almost. The burn travelling down his throat masks the burn shrouding his heart, almost.

It’s not his fault he’s an utter disaster of a human being. Right? (At this, he rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know who it was for.) Right. Not his fault. Certainly it’s not his fault that his mother would sooner take in a family of rabid possums than reinstate him into that godforsaken family tree (not that he wants to be a part of that godforsaken family anyhow). Not his fault that the only time his father acknowledges his existence is when he’s beating Sirius into nonexistence (and, no, the scars on his back don’t sting at the thought of that). Not his fault that he failed in protecting his brother from their tyranny (no, it’s Reggie’s fault for turning a blind eye). Not his fault that he has a disgusting, all-consuming crush on one of his best mates (not that he would admit to such a thing in the light of day; the stars already know). It’s not his fault, any of it. He’ll fault himself for it until he dies, though. 

There are plenty of better, more productive things he could be doing right now. He could be scouring the web to find a cheap flat somewhere so that he can get out of the Potters’ hair sooner rather than later. He could be formulating a solid excuse as to why half of his face is blue and black so that concerned teachers and acquaintances don’t have to look so damn concerned. He could be sleeping, a novel concept. 

(The last idea is laughable, even to the Potters in all of their perfect, caring glory. None of them have gotten any decent amount of sleep in days, and Sirius hates himself all the more for latching his burden onto them.) 

“Mind if I join you?” Sirius nearly jumps out of his skin, gripping tightly to the edge of the roof as he whips his head around to see-

“Remus?” He tilts his head as if looking at Remus from another angle will cause him to disappear altogether. 

Remus smiles, but it’s tight and forced, not brilliantly bright and endearing as it usually is. His eyes are filled with some emotion, but it’s not pity; Sirius releases just a bit of the tension in his shoulders upon realizing that. He’s had enough pity to last a thousand lifetimes.

Remus climbs through the window, his long limbs creating quite the spectacle as he does so. He takes a seat next to Sirius, just a bit further from the edge of the roof, and pulls his legs up to his chest. He rests his head on his knees and tilts his head, gaze searching for something in Sirius, but Sirius hasn’t a clue what he expects to find. 

“James texted,” Remus explains, looking past Sirius at those mischievous stars. “Me and Pete both. Pete had a thing tonight, but he swears he’ll come by in the morning.”

Sirius sighs, nods, takes another long drag of his cigarette. Doesn’t look at Remus’ mesmerizing amber eyes. Looks at the stars, instead; they may as well be laughing at him.

“Those’ll kill you, y’know.”

That gets half a chuckle out of Sirius. “Wouldn’t be the first to try.”

A silence washes over them. But here’s the thing about Remus: Sirius knows it isn’t an awkward silence. It’s not one of those thick silences, laid heavy with pity and sickly sweet sympathy. Remus is smart, and he’s empathetic, and he goes frighteningly silent sometimes because, unlike Sirius, he knows when to shut his damn mouth and think.

“I was worried.” Well, that’s not what Sirius was expecting. He raises an eyebrow, turns to look at Remus fully. “Before James texted, he called. Three days ago.” 

A shiver races down Sirius’ spine. He takes one last drag of the cigarette, snubs it out, and flicks it off the roof. Remus shoots a quick glare at it before looking at Sirius, really looking at him. God, if this weren’t already an anxiety-inducing situation, just seeing the way the moonlight reflects off Remus’ eyes and off the pale scars on his face would be enough to put Sirius into fight-or-flight mode. 

“Prongs is a lot of things,” Remus starts again, taking careful pauses to hold Sirius’ attention, as if he could possibly lose it right now, “but ‘scared’ is not a word I’ve ever used to describe him.” A pause. A deep breath. Sirius can see the stars twinkling in his eyes. “I couldn’t understand him. He was, well, he was a wreck, honestly. Kept saying your name, kept saying you were gonna die or something.”

Sirius Black is nothing if not a master of deflecting painful situations. “Well, I’m still kickin’. It’ll take more than a few good swipes to take me out, Moons!” He tries to grin and is met with Remus’ patented Not-Taking-Any-of-Sirius’-Shit look. 

“Stop, okay? You call him while you're half-coherent, he finds you half-dead, you spend the next two days in and out of, of, of fucking _being alive_ , and you still won’t let us worry about you? Christ, Padfoot.” Remus tosses his head back, searching the stars for something he won’t find. “Let us fucking care for you, you insufferable idiot.”

That snaps something within Sirius; not necessarily a bad something, just the something keeping him from falling to pieces completely. He drops his head to his chest, clutches the edge of the roof tighter, takes a deep, shuddering breath. The backs of his eyes sting, burning white-hot with the tears he can’t let fall. Blacks don’t cry; Blacks don’t fall apart in public. Blacks don’t do a lot of things that Sirius does.

Remus tugs at Sirius’ arm, and that’s all he needs to inch back, away from the edge and into Remus’ side. So much for not being a weak, hopeless idiot. So much for being a Black.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius mutters, repeating it like a prayer or like his last wish. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Remus just pulls him closer, if at all possible. “Not your fault. It’s not your fault, Sirius.”

The stars above them twinkle and twist, knowing all that they leave unsaid. Because, of course, the stars know things.

**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are much appreciated!! or not, it's your life, do what u want!!   
> follow me on tumblr @celestialbees for wholesome content, memes, and gay shit


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